Sanctuary (33 page)

Oriemn spun around.

Tobazim was close enough to see his confusion.

A vicious spasm of hatred crossed his face. He raised the spear and lunged at the girl, who caught the blade. The moment she touched it, she changed form, growing as she absorbed his power.

Was this a fiant, most dangerous of the empyrean plane’s predators?

Tobazim could feel his own form wavering, as the creature sucked Oriemn’s power from him. Truly, there were things on the higher plane that no one should have to face.

Edging past them, he slid his arm around Ardonyx’s shoulder, and urged him to run. Each time his bad leg struck the ground, Ardonyx lurched with pain. He was leaving a trail of blood. Little drops of power that would lure the fiant after them.

Tobazim stopped, pressed Ardonyx’s shoulders against a mirror and covered his thigh wound. Feeling Ardonyx’s life force and power pulsing under his hand, he sealed the injury.

Ardonyx lifted his head, face free of pain. To Tobazim’s horror, glistening hands reached through the mirror behind, closed around Ardonyx’s chest and dragged him through the glass.

Furious, Tobazim plunged his hands into the glass, reaching for Ardonyx. This was the all-father’s illusion, not his. But once before, when he and Learon were in danger, he’d been able to manipulate the higher plane.

Kyredeon struggled to keep him out of the mirror. He could taste the all-father’s gift and his fury. The battle of wills cost them both dearly in power.

At last the mirror shattered, but there was no sign of Ardonyx. Tobazim stepped through to look for him. He opened his link and followed it until he came to the silver-plated door again. His own reflection appeared dull and distorted in the metal. The door shivered.

Tobazim had to concentrate to prevent his form wavering in sympathy.

The reflection hardened, reforming into Farodytor. As Kyredeon’s voice-of-reason stepped through the door, the silver coated him in brilliant living armour, turning his face into a terrifying blank mask.

Farodytor’s left hand whipped out and Tobazim pulled back, but not fast enough. Talons slashed across his face, slicing through his mouth and the tip of his nose. Blood blinded him and he stumbled, falling to the ground.

Farodytor’s hand slashed out again.

This time, Tobazim was ready. He blocked with his knife, severing the silver talons. They fell to the floor, forming puddles of shining silver that were quickly absorbed by the higher plane.

Stunned, Farodytor backed off.

Tobazim sprang to his feet. He could sense Ardonyx was in trouble, and he ran towards the threat, turning corners until he found his shield-brother on his knees, head bowed. Kyredeon stood over him, holding a mirror like a blade, about to sever his head.

They were too far away.

Tobazim focused his gift on reforming the mirror, which turned into a sheet of silk in Kyredeon’s hand. He dropped it in surprise and it settled over Ardonyx like a cloak.

Kyredeon looked shocked, then stepped through a mirror.

Tobazim hauled Ardonyx to his feet. They had to get out of here.

Reaching out, Tobazim tried to form a handle in the nearest mirror. It resisted as Kyredeon’s will battled his. The easy energy of before was gone now. He’d used up the causare’s gift-infusion and everything was an effort. Tobazim gritted his teeth as he focused and, finally, the handle formed.

He opened the door and stumbled onto a formless plain.

Ardonyx pressed his forehead to Tobazim’s. Via their link, Tobazim saw the snow-covered ground of the free quarter park.

Raising his head, he saw they were in the park. Fanciful topiary trees wore mantles of winter snow. Tobazim’s breath steamed and he felt the chill rise up through his feet.

Ardonyx drew him across the snowy park, towards a frozen pool. In the centre was a statue erected to honour the fallen. It was a massive winged horse made of white marble, rearing on its hind legs with its wings extended.

Tobazim glanced behind them, expecting to see the three-storey building where the sisterhoods had their trysting bowers. Instead, he saw Kyredeon and Farodytor’s sculpture of the Celestial City realised on a vast scale. It loomed over them and from its balconies hung fingers of ice, or perhaps glass; he could not tell.

When they reached the edge of the pool, he and Ardonyx turned to face their enemies. The park was their creation. If Kyredeon and Farodytor wanted to attack them, they had to risk venturing into the park, which Tobazim and Ardonyx controlled.

A shape jumped down from the nearest balcony. Tobazim saw footprints appear in the snow as an indistinct form approached them. With a start he realised that it was Kyredeon, wearing armour made of mirrors. Farodytor dropped from a balcony and joined him. His silver armour reflected the white snow, making him hard to see.

On the higher plane, the T’En gifts sometimes revealed their owner’s true essence. Both Kyredeon and Farodytor were the embodiment of slippery deceit. It made him wonder how he appeared to them.

A strange whistle cut the air. Before Tobazim could comprehend the threat, a spear of shining glass ploughed into the snow next to his feet. Then there was a chorus of mournful whistles as the air was filled with a hail of icicles.

Ardonyx produced a shield and Tobazim created one for himself, raising it in defence. His arm and shoulder shook with the repeated impact of the ice spears.

With every strike, Tobazim felt his life force flicker and it was harder to regroup his essence under the assault. Ardonyx gave a grunt of pain and Tobazim knew he also suffered. A spike skidded over Tobazim’s shield, narrowly missing his head.

Ardonyx staggered. A silver icicle pierced his thigh; his leg gave out and he went down on one knee.

S
HOULDER TO SHOULDER
with Ionnyn and Haromyr, Graelen formed part of the ceremonial guard while Tobazim and Ardonyx battled on the empyrean plane.

‘How are they doing?’ Haromyr whispered.

Graelen opened his empyrean sight to study the bodies of the challengers. No life force pulsed in Oriemn. ‘Oriemn’s dead.’

‘Tobazim’s face is bleeding.’

Twice he’d seen wounds appear on Tobazim and Ardonyx, and twice they’d healed. But the new wound on Tobazim’s face dripped blood; it would be leaking power on the higher plane. A wound suddenly opened on Ardonyx’s thigh.

Frustration gripped Graelen. He should be on the empyrean plane fighting by their side. He was a coward to let his love for Valendia prevent him from protecting Tobazim and Ardonyx.

‘Watch out!’ Valendia called.

He looked up to see her on the rear-deck, trying to stop one of Oriemn’s supporters, who was about to throw a knife at Tobazim and Ardonyx. Graelen could not believe it. The challenge for leadership was sacrosanct.

Graelen darted around the challengers, making for the steps and the knot of gift-warriors.

As if this was a signal, the deck erupted in battle. Kyredeon’s supporters tried to reach Tobazim and Ardonyx’s vulnerable bodies, and the rebel brothers fought back.

By the time Graelen reached the deck, it was too late. The gift-warrior let Valendia fall to her knees on the planks, clutching her belly as blood leaked between her fingers.

‘Grae...’ She raised frightened eyes to him.

The five gift-warriors laughed.

He went utterly still and silent inside. He did not remember drawing his knives, did not remember attacking. But suddenly he was amongst them. He stabbed one, gutted another and caught a third around the chest, using him as a shield and allowing his companion to stab him.

Three rapid blows struck Graelen’s back, one high, one low and one to the side. He dropped the dead warrior, drove the next man over the balcony and kicked the legs out from under the last one, pinning him to the deck with a knife through his chest.

Then he crawled to Valendia, pulling her into his arms. He would not let her die. His back and side felt hot and sticky. Below, on the mid-deck, he could hear the battle raging on.

I
N THE FOREDECK
cabins, Aravelle huddled on her bedroll with her little sister in her arms as Kyredeon’s brotherhood erupted in violence.

‘This is why we should be grateful for our all-father,’ Charsoria said, and her inner circle nodded. A single lamp burned, illuminating their faces. ‘Hueryx maintains the peace. He keeps the arrogant young warriors in line. He protects us Malaunje from the T’En warriors of our own brotherhood.’

After a few more moments, the shouts grew fainter and the screams eased.

‘Sounds like it’s nearly over,’ old Redravia whispered.

‘But not before they’ve torn the heart out of their own brotherhood,’ Charsoria said.

Aravelle rubbed Itania’s back. She was grateful for All-father Hueryx, and grateful her brothers were protected by the sisterhoods.

Chapter Twenty-Five

A
S
T
OBAZIM SLID
an arm under Ardonyx and hauled him upright, a shaft of silvery winter sunlight illuminated the frozen pool and statue. He’d heard that only the most powerful of T’En could produce sunlight on the empyrean plane. But there was no time to wonder as he felt for the broad stone seat around the rim of the pool. They climbed onto it and edged backwards, retreating across the frozen pool’s surface.

Farodytor moved around one side of the fountain and Kyredeon the other. He could not keep his eye on both of them.

Ardonyx’s shield had evaporated and the icicle protruded grotesquely from his thigh. With painful clarity, Tobazim understood they were in danger of bleeding to death here, shedding gift force on this plane while their life force seeped from their torn bodies on the earthly plane.

It could not end like this.

Tobazim felt the winged-horse statue at their backs. They could go no further.

As Farodytor stepped up onto the fountain’s rim, a long silver scythe appeared in his hands. The scythe cut the air, whistling towards Ardonyx. There was a screech as the scythe connected with the horse’s white marble wing. That wing had not been lowered before. Tobazim had not moved it; it must have been Ardonyx.

He smelled burning metal.

Kyredeon took on more solid form as he stepped onto the seat around the rim of the pool. His lips pursed in a soundless whistle. Glass icicles tinkled on the balcony behind him. One snapped off with a musical chink and speared straight for Tobazim’s heart. The horse’s wing swept down between them, shielding him.

Since Ardonyx was using the horse to protect them, Tobazim lowered Ardonyx and took the opportunity to try to heal him. Ardonyx gasped and grasped his injured leg. Tobazim knelt beside him, closed his hands on the ice spear and dissolved it, then covered the wound and sealed it shut. But it took everything he had. Exhausted, he huddled on the statue’s plinth next to Ardonyx.

Kyredeon and Farodytor stepped off the broad stone rim and onto the ice, closing in for the kill.

Ardonyx grabbed Tobazim, and shielded him with his body. Looking up, Tobazim saw the winged horse rear, its hooves pawing the air.

As it landed, those hooves struck sparks from the ice, and the ice screamed like an injured animal. The marble horse reared and struck the ice again. Tobazim could see dozens of crazed cracks racing across the pool’s frozen surface. Kyredeon tried to spring back, but the ice parted under him. The all-father writhed, slipping ever deeper with each desperate attempt to free himself.

Tobazim glanced to Farodytor, who was in the same predicament. His body steamed as his gift was leached from him, stolen by the greedy higher plane.

Chest-deep now, the glass surface of Kyredeon’s body grew opaque, his struggles weakening with every heartbeat.

Tobazim came to his knees to watch the empyrean plane devour them. The ice closed over Kyredeon’s body. Farodytor was also trapped below a sheet of ice. He beat at the underside of the frozen pool, his blows growing weaker and weaker. The end was inevitable. Even as Tobazim watched, Farodytor’s form lost solidity as his life essence and gift were absorbed into the higher plane.

Tobazim glanced back to Kyredeon, but he could hardly make out where the ice ended and Kyredeon began; there was only a faint man-shaped form, which even now dissipated.

They had won.

His head reeled.

Looking up, he saw the statue had resumed its usual pose of a rearing horse, wings outstretched. The shaft of sunlight flickered as several dark, broad-winged creatures circled, coming lower with each spiral. Harrowravens... The predators had found them.

They had to flee.

Tobazim lifted his hand to his face and ran his fingers over the open cuts, urging them to heal. It took such effort that he knew he would be scarred for life. Very well. He was content to wear those scars as a tribute to this night.

Ardonyx offered his hand. Tobazim took it and tried to leave the empyrean plane, but he was too exhausted. Then he felt Ardonyx latch onto something and they returned to the ship.

I
MOSHEN RETURNED TO
the earthly plane, shuddering with the effort, her mind a confusion of images: death, ice and silver. At least she had managed to disguise her intervention. Tobazim would assume that Ardonyx had been controlling the winged-horse.

When she stood, her right leg gave out and the thigh muscle ached around a phantom wound. But Ardonyx was safe and, unless something went drastically wrong between now and tomorrow, her choice-son’s future was secure.

But she felt no triumph, only relief.

It would be interesting to see how the two non-martially-gifted men chose to run the brotherhood. Could they hold onto the leadership against the threat of the more aggressive gift-warriors in their own brotherhood? Could a peaceful brotherhood survive the other brotherhoods?

Only time would tell, but it gave her hope for the future of her people.

She had drained and killed Oriemn, mimicking a fiant, one of the most feared empyrean predators. Now nausea filled her, as her gift processed the nature of the man and his gift.